


Little Broken Doll

by DeweyIggyZuki



Category: Bleach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeweyIggyZuki/pseuds/DeweyIggyZuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's lost, all alone, and has nothing left. She's surrounded by nothing but the darkness of the people in white, and what's left of her memories. And this time, she has no one to save her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Broken Doll

She sat in the corner of the white room, the one she had been held in for so long. Her hair was matted with dirt and blood, tangled in knots. Her white hakama was torn, bloody, and missing in several places. Her body was bruised, burned, bloody, and scarred. She hugged her knees to her chest. She held her head in her arms.

She didn't make a noise, simply rocked in her corner, back and forth.

The air was silent, for now. Soon they would come for her. Yes, they would come. Come and do things to her. Things that she deserved. She must've deserved them, or else why would they do them to her? Yes, of course. She has figured that out a long time ago. But just how long? Oh, she had been here for a long time, a very long time. She couldn't remember how long.

She sat there, her head in her arms. Her eyes were closed. Or were they open? She couldn't tell. It was always dark. Day no longer came to this place. It used to, back when she had first come here. But now it was only night, always night.

When she had first come here… such a long time ago. She couldn't remember- wait, yes. Yes she could. Just a hair of a memory, that's all she could get from it. But she remembered.

She remembered…

A boy, clad in white. Not like the ones who surrounded her now, but the same shade of white.

Another boy, one who was very strong. He could destroy things with one stroke of his fist. His fists, covered in some type of armor, that molded to his skin, his arms.

A girl, with black, spiky hair. Another strong one. But she didn't have that special armor, she was just strong. Protective.

A young boy, with white hair, who reminded her of… oh what was that word again? Whatever it was, it was cold. Cold and white, floating down from the sky.

A woman with the young boy, a blonde, beautiful woman. Her eyes, eyes she couldn't forget. So happy, full of life, goofiness. But behind all that, a hidden pain. It was just barely evident. She had to look hard to catch it.

Two other boys, goofy, funny. One with brown hair, the other with black. One was out of touch with the world, the other was delved deeply into it.

A man, who looked at her with such compassion. His hands, so warm and comforting. He held her close to her, until he had left… where he went she could not remember…

Another boy, perhaps a man, she couldn't remember. She hardly remembered him either. Just a streak of red, and emotions across his eyes. Too many emotions to decipher.

Another girl, with hair like that of the night, so dark. Her face, her eyes, just like the other, too many emotions.

Six little flittering figures…

And one who dominated all of them, one she could hardly remember, yet he was so deeply ingrained in her mind, she just couldn't forget.

A boy. Another boy. His hair like hers, but brighter, so much brighter. His eyes, deep and mesmerizing. He had tried to keep his eyes clear, with nothing but resolve, but she had seen them falter. There were so many things in there. His heart was filled with a will; a will to protect.

The last thing she remembered was red… every single memory… red…

A creak interrupted her thoughts. Steps, evenly paced, made their way to her.

They stopped just in front of her.

"Get up, woman."

Slowly, she lifted her head up, brought her face to the man in front of her.

Her face, like the rest of herself, was messy to look at. Dried blood lined her face. Her lip was split, and scabbing. Her eyes were blackened, bruised. Dark circles hung under her eyes. Her eyes were pale, devoid of almost all color. Any emotions in her eyes were gone, wiped away long ago.

It wasn't just her eyes; it was her entire being. The people around her, the people in white had stripped her of anything and everything she had. She was just their doll, their little puppet. She was there for them to toy with. Nothing more.

She was empty.

"Get up, woman," the man said. His face was white, emotionless, turned into a permanent frown. From his emotionless eyes fell green tear tracks. His black hair fell partially in his face, while half of his head was covered in the remnants of a white mask, like his skin, and is white hakama. She could just barely make out his figure in her cloudy, deteriorating vision, and the darkness of the world around her.

"I said get up, you stupid woman," he said harshly, kicking her.

She allowed herself to be hit. She didn't cry out, didn't flinch. Just accepted it. She must have done something to deserve this. She didn't ask, didn't question, didn't speak.

Never spoke.

"Get up."

She let go of her legs, and slowly pushed herself off the ground. When she was up, she stood there blankly.

The man looked at her for a moment, before turning.

"She's ready."

Masked people, fully masked, unlike the man, came in. She was roughly bound, her hands behind her back, her mouth gagged, her eyes covered, all with rough cloth. She was brought out of the room, trying not to trip as the quickly-paced people brought her.

After a while, she was brought into a room, one with big, heavy doors. She could hear them as they swung open.

"Aizen-sama, we have brought you the woman."

"Ah, thank you Ulquiorra. Take your seat. And take our Orihime-san to hers."

She was guided to a pedestal, and roughly forced into a seat. Her hands were taken from their bindings, and now forced into the restraints on the armrests of the chair. Her feet were restrained to the chair's legs. Her gag was loosened, and yanked off.

She didn't fight back.

She sat there for some time, the cloth still covering her eyes.

Suddenly she wasn't in her seat anymore. She was in a place, darker than this one. One where the moon was crested high, so high above her.

Surrounded by pillars, she looked around her, turning. Each pillar was twice her size, and at the top of each pillar was a person.

The people from her memories.

Each one was placed high above her. They stood tall, drawn faces, as if ready to face off against an imaginary opponent.

Suddenly, a cry rang out. She swung around to see one of them, the boy clad in white clutching at his shoulder as blood gushed from a wound.

Another person yelled, and she saw the night-haired girl recoil as a huge red streak appeared across her face.

More cries, as the blonde woman and spiky-haired girl fell to their knees, blood spurting from their abdomens.

They all began to cry out, all at once. Each one of them being attacked by an invisible enemy.

She looked over at each one of them frantically, slowly realizing what was happening.

They were dying.

They were crying out, full of pain, remorse.

Torn apart, from the outside, and the inside.

Each calling out a name.

A name she couldn't make out.

Their faces were stricken with emotion, a pain so deep, so unexplainable.

But as each new wound made their mark on them, she began to fell desperation, dread, and pain. So much pain, unbearable sadness, so overwhelmingly sad.

She couldn't take it. She had to help them.

But she couldn't. she was helpless, powerless.

Her heart dropped, and she collapsed on her knees.

No… why can't I… help.. them…

The bright-haired boy looked at her, blood trickled down his face.

He opened his mouth to call to her, but nothing came out. She looked at him with an expression full of pain and confusion.

His eyes grew wide, and glassy tears began to fill them. He shut his eyes, and they began to spill.

What? she thought, as something began to turn inside her. He's not supposed to cry. He's the strongest. Isn't he...?

No.

She knelt there, eyes wide. Tears pricked at her eyes as her vision blurred.

"No."

What do I do?

"No."

How do I save you?

"No!"

I don't know...

"NO!"

I don't know anything...

"NO! NO! NO!"

She screamed, over and over. The tears flooded her eyes, streaked down her face.

I'm sorry

She didn't stop.

"NO!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Aizen smiled, watching her scream and cry helplessly, while she struggled at the chair, trying to free herself from it. Her wrists bled from the struggle, as did her ankles. Tears soaked the cloth that covered her eyes, and trickled out, dripping onto her clothing. Her face was so full of pain, it was pleasing to him. Pleasing to use his power to taunt her with the memory of her pathetic little friends.

She was his little toy. He could bend and break her as he pleased. And she was so delightful to break.

The other Espadas sat in their places, surrounded by their fracciones. They sat there expressionless, void of anything to give way to their feelings.

Aizen allowed his smile to grow, but just a bit.

He watched his poor doll, watched as once again, he caused her soul, a soul she had tried so hard to harden from him, to fall to the floor, and shatter into a million tiny pieces.

All over again.


End file.
